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“Where the hell is he?” Slider grumbled, hefting his bag higher on his shoulder as he looked around for Maverick.
“I don’t know,” Iceman shrugged, doing his own cursory glance around the room where the other people were starting to gather. “He wasn’t in the mess hall so I figured he’d be here waiting for us.”
“They’re not going to wait for him,” Slider warned, watching as the other sailors started lining up.
“He’ll be here.”
“ C’mon Mav,” the RIO muttered under his breath, tugging Ice so that they were actually standing in line. “We’re 16 hours from freedom and now the pipsqueak decides to go AWOL…”
“Ron–”
“I’m here!” Maverick gasped, slipping in line behind them, panting lightly.
“Where the hell were you?”
“Medical discovered that I apparently missed a few vaccines at some point and wanted to make sure I got them done before heading on leave,” he explained, trying to catch his breath. “Had to run here from medbay.”
“I always knew you were a bit feral, Mav, but missing shots? Really?” Slider teased.
“Which ones?” Ice frowned. “Most of the required ones are childhood vaccines, aren’t they?”
“Hopped around a lot between foster homes so I guess I must’ve missed some,” he said nonchalantly, once again reminding the other two how unfortunate his childhood must have been. “But I got…uh…DTP, Polio and Measles, I think.”
“All at once?” Ron frowned, exchanging a concerned look with his pilot.
“Doc said it was okay, and they didn’t want me getting lost in the paperwork again so,” Maverick shrugged, grimacing as he did so. “Hurt like hell though, do not recommend.”
“C’mon, kid,” Slider directed them over to some seats on the side, having Maverick sit between them.
“Only 16 wonderful hours to go,” Maverick grinned, earning a mock glare from the RIO.
“Don’t make me sock your arm, kid.”
“You wouldn’t…”
“If you annoy me I will…”
As soon as the plane got underway, the sailors and aviators began to spread out around the cargo plane, settling in for the long haul. Slider and Ice shepherded their wayward wingman to a section where they could lean against the wall, using their bags as partial cushioning. It was going to be a long flight.
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About two hours in, Mav’s head began to bob, drooping closer and closer to Slider’s shoulder.
Slider and Ice exchanged worried glances at one another over the shorter pilot. Maverick never slept on planes, no matter how long the transport was.
“Hey R-ron?”
“Yeah, Mav? What’s up?
“Please don’t s-sock me-–” his voice was tight, pain evident.
“Easy, easy…I won’t, I promise,” Slider held both hands up.
“What’s wrong, Mav?” Ice’s eyes widened.
“J’st–arms really hurt,” he offered, teeth clenched.
The RIO/pilot exchanged looks again.
“How’re you feeling otherwise?” Tom set his book down.
“N-n-not that great,” Maverick practically whined, jaw clenching.
Ron gently tugged the smaller pilot to lean against his chest, concern mounting when he felt the heat coming from the shivering frame. “Ahh hell, kid…”
Ice’s cool hands gently framed his face, grimacing as he caught the exhaustion in the too bright green eyes. “Damnit, Mav…”
“I’m s’rry,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes tight.
“Not your fault kiddo,” Ron murmured, checking his watch. They still had nearly 13 hours on this ridiculous plane.
“Think it’s the vaccines, Pete,” Ice agreed. “Typically they make you not feel so hot, but since you had multiple, they must be really running you down.”
“What’s hurtin’, pipsqueak?”
“Arms h’rt, headache, and f’l so c’ld and t’red,” Maverick whispered, trying to bury himself in Slider’s shirt.
Slider wrapped his arms around the smaller man, frowning. “Those damn idiots. Vaccines give you a dose of each disease don’t they? And they gave him, what—5?”
“Microdoses,” Ice mused, running a hand through Maverick’s hair.
“I don’t care if they’re microscopic doses, Tom! Look at him, and this is after what? 3 hours? Poor kid looks horrible…”
“M ‘kay Sli,” Maverick muttered, holding the RIO’s shirt tighter. “D’nt yell.”
“Sorry,” Ron whispered, gently covering Pete’s ear with his hand. “I’ve gotcha buddy. S’gonna be okay.”
“Here, let’s see what we can do,” Ice offered quietly, digging through his bag. He pulled a blanket out, as well as a small bottle of ibuprofen. “Got any water, Ron?”
“Should, feel free to check.”
Ice dug around in his RIO’s bag, pulling out a half empty water bottle and a set of aviators, easily slipping them over the smaller pilot’s eyes.
“Alright, Pete. let’s get a few pills in you… see if we can get you feeling any better.”
The pair worked together to sit Maverick up and to get him to take a few pills and to drink some water.
“There we go,” Ice nodded easily as Slider pulled him back close.
They tucked the blanket around the smaller aviator, trying to offer soothing touches as he shivered and whined.
“You’re gonna be just fine, kiddo,” Ron promised. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ve got you.”
They spent the next several minutes trying to soothe their younger counterpart, Ron holding him through the shivers and Tom trying to ease some of the muscle tension he felt forming in the other pilot’s neck.
Eventually, Pete’s exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he slumped boneless against Ron, face flushed. Ron held him closer, frowning as he felt his forehead again.
“He’s getting a hell of a fever, Tom,” he whispered.
“All we can do is try to hope he sleeps through most of it, Sli,” Ice looked just as worried. “Once we land we can get him some more meds or even drag him to med bay if we need to but up here—all we can do is try to help with individual symptoms. He was essentially given weaker, temporary versions of each of those illnesses.”
“Damn bastards.”
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Maverick felt like he was on fire , like actual lava was coursing through his veins. He tried to squirm away from the heat but pain lanced through his shoulders like someone was actually stabbing him. He bit his lip, biting back a sob as his shoulders throbbed.
“---av?”
He didn’t understand. Had he crashed? What was going on?
“ Maverick ?”
His head throbbed, a deep pounding sort of throbbing that seemed to shake his whole head.
“Hey, can you hear us, Mav?”
He nodded minutely as he whimpered, finding no escape from the heat or the pain in his head and shoulders.
“Talk to us, buddy, tell us what’s going on so we can help you.”
“M on f’re,” he whispered, clinging desperately to the fabric underneath him, a shirt, some distant part recognized.
Cool hands were suddenly on his forehead, encasing the back of his neck, trying to provide him some semblance of relief from the inferno he seemed trapped in.
“You’re okay, bud, you’re okay… think you can sit up and take another pill?”
He shook his head stiffly, groaning when it pulled on his sore muscles again.
“C’mon, Pete, we’ll help, but you’ve gotta take something kid. Still have a little while on this damn plane,” that one seemed to rumble beneath his head, starting to give him clarity.
“S-s-Sli?”
“Right here, kiddo,” a large hand gently squeezed the back of his neck. “C’mon, let’s sit up for a second.”
“M s’rry—“ Maverick whimpered, tears leaking from his eyes.
He couldn’t make sense of his thoughts. Sli said he was on a plane, but he felt like he’d crashed a plane. He was in so much pain from the throbbing in his head and his shoulders that he was about to cry. Shit he was crying. He wasn’t supposed to do that—real men didn’t cry.
But who’d said that? He didn’t think it was Slider, and if Sli was here, Ice must be too. Maybe he was one of the icy hands on his head? Ha. He must be! But he didn’t tell him not to cry. They’d all cried before. Even cried together… he couldn’t remember about what now, but it had been important.
“M cryin’,” he whispered, not seeing the alarm on the faces of both wingmen.
“That’s okay, bud,” Ice promised, gently pressing and massaging the tensing muscles of Maverick’s shoulders. “We know you don’t feel well. Nothing wrong with crying.”
“J’st wanna be home.”
“I know,” Ice sighed. “I promise we’ll get you home as soon as we can, Pete, and we’ll bundle you up, run hot baths for you, and let you eat as many as Sli’s brownies as you want to. But you’ve gotta help me.”
Maverick followed the gentle tugs until he was sitting upright, instantly swaying as everything spun around him.
“Easy Mav,” Ron steadied him. “Just swallow the pill and some water and we’ll get you laying back down—there we go…”
Maverick took the offered pill and a few sips of water and dutifully swallowed them with a grimace.
“M s’rry,” he hung his head.
“Nothin’ to apologize for,” Slider shook his head, reaching back into his bag to pull out a sweatshirt.
“H’d to get the st’pid vac’nes—“ he tried to explain, letting the RIO pull him back down against his chest, onto a makeshift pillow now made of a bundled up sweatshirt.
“We sure as hell wouldn’t want you handling this on your own,” Tom argued softly, tucking the blanket back around him.
“‘Sides it’s other people who screwed up, Pete. Damn foster parents for not making sure you were protected and bastard medics for giving them all at once,” Ron grumbled, running a hand over his friend’s back.
“Burnin’ Sli…” he scrunched up his face, shivering.
But then there was something wet and delightfully cold against his neck, and for the first time in what felt like hours, Maverick relaxed .
“What did you—is that a sock ?” Kerner whispered to his pilot, confusion evident.
“It was clean at least,” Ice argued. “I don’t have a surplus of supplies here but his fever was getting worse so I thought a wet sock was better than nothing.”
Slider reached out to readjust the sock, vaguely impressed with his pilot’s ingenuity. Maverick sloppily reached for his hand as he did.
“My s’ck, Sli–d’nt take it.”
“I won’t take your sock, you weirdo,” he chuckled softly. “If it’s helping, you’re welcome to keep it. But I think it’s technically Ice’s sock. You definitely wouldn’t want one of mine that close to your face.”
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Between the sock and one more round of ibuprofen, they were able to keep Maverick comfortable enough that he slept most of the remainder of the trip, fitful as it was. By the time they arrived in Miramar, they were starting to think the worst was probably over for the younger pilot, but it was obvious that he would be dealing with his exhaustion and muscle soreness for the next few days.
At this rate, all three of them would be dealing with the exhaustion and jet lag, but at least they were home.
Maverick stumbled wearily after his wingmen towards Ice’s vehicle, squinting despite the borrowed shades. Ron had refused to let him carry his own bag so he was left to just sort of toddle after them.
“C’mon shortstack,” Slider urged. “Let’s get home, yeah? See if a hot shower or bath can help you with that muscle soreness.”
“I don’t—I’m okay, Ron,” and he was, or at least a lot more coherent than he had been.
“I know but humor me,” The RIO insisted, concern still heightened. “We’ll all get cleaned up and get some food and then crash out for an old fashioned sorta sick day. Movies on the couch, junk food, the whole nine yards. Whatdya say?”
“Old fashioned what?” Maverick climbed into the car, stifling a yawn.
“You know, like when you were a kid and laid around watching The Price is Right or something because that’s all that was on daytime tv? We’ll just do that.”
“Oh,” Mav nodded, though he wasn’t sure he really remembered. “Did that with Nick once I think.”
He completely missed the way the RIO in the front tensed. In fact, Mav was completely oblivious to the entire whispered argument that ensued, leaning against the glass and slipping into a peaceful doze.
Ice, however, had not missed the way his best friend had frozen.
“Ron…” he whispered in warning.
“Hmm?”
“Ron whatever you’re thinking—he’s tired, we’re tired—” Ice tried to negate whatever plan his backseater was already concocting. “He doesn’t know any different.”
“And that’s the problem! He needs to understand that he doesn’t have to suffer alone all the time. That he can let us help and be coddled from time to time.”
“You really think Mother Goose didn’t coddle him?”
“I’m sure he did but he’s probably the only one and now that he’s gone Mav assumes that was a Nick only thing.”
“Let me guess, you’re going to make sure he realizes it wasn’t Bradshaw exclusive,” Ice mused, sighing.
“What if next time he’s sick he doesn’t tell us? What if we’d made it home before he got symptoms and he was like that by himself? He needs to know that we’ll take care of him too,” Slider insisted.
“I swear I hear Bradshaw laughing at me…” Ice sighed, glancing at the pilot slumped in his back seat. “Alright… what’s the plan then, Sli?”
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Just about 24 hours after the trio left the carrier, they were all finally asleep. There were take out boxes of Chinese food on the kitchen counter, both containers of soup completely consumed. A dirty tray in the sink was the only evidence of there ever having been brownies. All three aviators were sleeping on the mattresses Ron had dragged to the living room floor, Maverick wrapped like a blanket burrito between them, snuggled in the warmth they provided. This would be far from the last night they ever spent camped out like this, but it was the one Maverick would always remember the most.